“Will you go and knock again, and say you wish to speak to him particularly, dear?” said Laurence gravely.
I hesitated, trembling from head to foot.
“Why?” asked I, in a low voice.
“Because we want to speak to him particularly,” said the other man gruffly.
But I looked at his hard face and panted out—
“You are a policeman, I know! What do you want with Mr. Rayner?”
“Never you mind, my dear; we won’t hurt you. Just go and say you want to speak to him.”
“No, I won’t!” I cried—not loudly, for my voice seemed to grow suddenly weak. “Whatever you think he has done, or whatever he has done, I will never help to harm Mr. Rayner!”
The man shrugged his shoulders, walked to the window, and whistled softly. Laurence put me into a chair, whispering “That’s a brave girl!”—but with such an anxious, stern face. And the other man came back into the room, followed by a policeman with his staff ready in his hand.
“We must break open the door,” said the elder man.